


Whirlwind of Black and White

by chraezanty17



Category: Black Swan (2010), House M.D.
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chraezanty17/pseuds/chraezanty17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily crosses Thirteen's path as Nina Sayers is taken to the Princeton–Plainsboro Teaching Hospital after her debut performance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curtain Call

Her vision is hazy, distorted; it is reminiscent of looking through the glass of a window during the pouring rain. One can only make out vague silhouettes, but even all of those melt together until limbs become twice as long as they should and humans cease to have features, save eyes or mouths. Their faces are a blank, streaked through with water.

"Nina? Can you hear me? Say something, please!"

She is still disoriented to the degree she cannot immediately place the voice. It is undeniably female, yes, and reasonably young as well. Familiar, but then again so is the nagging sensation she has not  _completely_  abandoned herself in dance yet, that she would not ever be good enough to be the Swan Queen.

Only that's ridiculous, because Thomas had  _chosen_  her. She had danced, she had  _soared_ , flying high above the heads of her audience, leaving them utterly speechless as she unfolded her wings and enchanted them one by one. They had all fallen under her spell, and she had been perfect.

Nina smiles.

* * *

"What's happening here? What the _hell_  have you injected her with?" Lily is  _not_  pleased and the strange brunette isn't making the situation any better, only acknowledging her from time to time with impatient glances as she refuses to explain what exactly is actually going on.

"It's just something to calm her. She's still bleeding severely and needs immediate - Chase, finally!" The ballet dancer groans as a blonde doctor strides in like a male model for white lab coats, if such a thing exists. She has been getting somewhere with the other woman, a way to understand at least in part what chances Nina has of surviving the mysterious wound that had magically appeared just in time for the White Swan's suicide, when  _that_ jackass started giving what he would call explanations, Lily's sure. Only they are filled with so many medical terms any random doctor - the usual, everyday life kind - would not understand them if his life depended on it, she muses with the sarcasm almost audibly dripping from the words used. Are they  _trying_ to further confuse and frustrate her?

"You know what, I'm outta here. Tell me when we've got to the information that's useful." She interrupts Chase and draws the attention of all the company present as she storms out of Nina's room with her pace nearing a run.

She is sick of the hospital already and she has only been in here for five minutes. She wishes she could allow herself to go to some random club and drown all her worries in tequila and the scent of a one-night-stand's perfume, but things are more complicated than that.

Lily has been nursing her coffee - black, no sugar - and sitting on the ridiculously uncomfortable chair in the corridor outside Nina's room for a good while when she hears footsteps. She doesn't bother to look up to see who it is and merely buries her head in her hands and sighs. The moment passes and she raises her head again.

"We've subdued her for now, she should be set for stitches about this second. It's not life-threatening and she'll be able to walk soon." Recognition of the voice. At least it's better than nothing.

The ballet dancer pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. What could be the reason for her headache - the whole Swan Lake ordeal or the massive alcohol consumption from the night before? 

_Damn, I knew I should've taken the Vicodin._

She's caught off guard by laughter. The presence of the brunette doctor sets her on edge - doesn't she have places to be, prescriptions to write? No, sir, she does not, she is apparently free to laugh at visitors all she wants.

"Hey, you got a problem?" Lily hisses, a good bit more aggressive than she has intended.

The doctor meets her gaze levelly. "You just said that out loud. It's just that my boss would  _love_ to hear about this."

Her interest ever so slightly piqued, Lily turns her body around so she is facing the other woman. "Why?"

The answer comes with a shrug. "Medical genius with a drug addiction. I suppose you'll see him at some point, it's pretty likely he'll grace this particular patient with his attention seeing as she is clearly mentally unstable. He loves those, anything to keep him from being bored."

She winces apologetically, but Lily is certain it's not entirely genuine.

"She really is, though. You've heard the nonsense she's been muttering for the last half an hour."

"Yeah. So what's your deal, anyway?"

"Sorry?"

"You know - don't pretend to be so innocent, it only comes off as pathetic."

When Lily is met with no more than incomprehension and silence, she goes on. She can't help but smirk, however, the corner of her mouth barely twitching. Still, the doctor seems to notice it well enough. "The drugs, lady. Bloodshot eyes, restlessness, an emotional low in general. You might be taking ecstasy from time to time or every few hours for all I know, I'm not the one with years of med school under my belt, but I  _can_ tell you've been using some during the last-"

She makes a show of leaning her head to the right in faux contemplation, "twenty-four hours."

The other woman shrugs. "I can't believe I have to say this to the second person in twenty minutes now, but I don't have a drug problem."

Lily holds up her hands in surrender, palms facing the doctor. "Hey, I'm not judging, chill out. Just making small talk."

The stranger snorts. "Do you usually talk to people about their habits concerning substances that are technically illegal?"

A devilish grin spreads over the dancer's face. "Maybe. You could also leave if it bothers you."

This time, the laughter Lily hears has a bitter undertone. She hadn't really known a laugh could have one, but apparently it could alright. "Thanks, but no thanks. While we're here chatting anyway, what's  _your_ deal?"

She groans. "Well, my head is  _killing_ me, for one thing."

The doctor grins. "I might just be able to help. Fancy an IV by any chance?"

* * *

As she lies there, arms folded behind her head, the ceiling slowly starts to become blurred. She smiles; the injection is obviously affecting her and she feels sublime already.

"So, your boss allows you to dope random visitors up whenever you feel bored?"

"Let's just say it wouldn't be the first time he fires and re-hires me again over the course of two days."

A moment passes, the silence literally echoing and bouncing off between the walls as the deafening tick-tocking of the clock continues on and prods her brain like an annoying, invisible mosquito. There remains the distinct possibility that the drugs are talking, though. "What's your name?"

"Thirteen." Comes the amused response.

Lily simultaneously frowns and fights the urge to burst out laughing. "Cut the crap. I'm Lily."

"Remy."

* * *

Both brunettes are blissfully ignorant of Nina Sayers regaining consciousness.


	2. Calm After The Storm

By the time the nausea has subsided enough for her to have the courage to attempt sitting up on the bed, her room is empty. She can feel it the way that she knows she is currently losing weight in both the form of fat and muscle. Thomas will  _not_  be impressed the next time she shows up for training. Veronica will sneer gleefully and her mother... Nina does not want to think about that particular aspect of her future at that moment, so she pushes the thought away to the furthest corner of her mind.

She takes her time and, to her surprise, actually manages to prop herself up on her elbows into a semi-sitting position. Considering the strength the ballet dancer has acquired through years of practice, especially by way of comparison to her height and physique, this accomplishment is pathetic, but she grits her teeth and promises herself not to do anything overly stupid.

Nina finds that there are no curtains in front of her window and she can only make out the vaguest shapes around her room, even as her eyes have become well adjusted to the dark. She figures it must be around midnight.

She pads over to the bathroom door, shivering as her bare feet creep lightly over the icy floor, and blindly fumbles for the light switch. She watches her reflection in the mirror and takes a moment to observe her pupil constricting at the sudden flash of light. The fluorescent light shattes any hopes of an illusion - her eyes are sunken deep into her sockets, her features haggard and her pale complexion appears about as healthy as that of a skeleton.

She sighs, weary, and goes back to bed to wait for another day to begin.

* * *

"Hey, deer in the headlights."

The smooth voice startles her and she looks up in delight. Only now does she connect the dots to realize that the girl casually leaning against the glass door's frame is the same one who had pleaded with her to wake up in her delirium. She has always seemed nonchalant about everything, strong-willed, determined and getting every single thing she desired with no exception so that it feels surreal to Nina to even see her standing there as if she is genuinely concerned.

"Lily!" There is warmth in the ballet dancer's voice.

"Surprised?" Teasing, just a little. "Care to tell me what exactly made you think the dramatic touch of a near-death experience added to your performance?"

She does not expect an honest answer, she is just toying with her, mismatched eyes glinting like that of a cat in the darkness. She strolls towards the bed, shutting the door with her hip, with half of a grin playing on her lips.

Nina smiles wistfully. "I would have been truly perfect."

The silence seems deafening, even though it could not have lasted for more than ten seconds. A moment passes.

"The  _hell_  you would have been! You weren't there for the curtain call, you have a gaping wound in your stomach that'll leave you scarred for life and you would have lost everything you've ever worked and literally bled for! Get a grip, Swan Queen."

For less than a second, Nina recoils at the sight of Lily, who seems more like Odile than ever as her dark eyes blaze with fury. She flinches at the shouts cutting through the air like knives and her own voice loses the dreamy, far-away quality as she lowers it to a murmur. "It could have been a hallucination, just as well."

She raises her hands in surrender.

"What?" Lily's head turns sharply around to face her once more after it has been immersed in shadow a mere moment before.

"I've-" Nina swallows and beckons her colleague nearer, unable to shake the feeling of being watched. She is sick to her stomach independent of the deep gash oozing crimson blood and the back of her neck tingles, the unpleasant sensation associated with pulling feathers out of her skin. Finally, the flow of words coming from her mouth is impossible to stop even as she grimaces at the semi-real memories they invoke. "I've been seeing things long before the debut. I didn't think much of it, after all, we were all stressed and sleep-deprived. My reflection turning its head when I was perfectly still, my feet those of a swan, little things like that. They disappeared almost as soon as I blinked. Then, I started to actually  _become_ the Black Swan. The time you took me out clubbing I was certain you'd come home with me, only we hadn't slept with each other, you told me as much. Another hallucination had me killing you as to hinder you from going on stage as my alternate. Wouldn't have been all that far-fetched to assume the wound had been a part of it."

Contrary to what Nina has been expecting, Lily merely sighs and settles herself into the chair next to her bed, kicking off her combat boots as she does so. She raises an eyebrow as she notices the other woman's expression. "What, you don't expect me to spend the night with these uncomfortable things on, do you?"

* * *

Still, Nina's grasp on reality slips from time to time.

It is never as serious as her homicidal hallucinations, not by a long shot, but it serves to unnerve her just as well. On most occasions, it's limited to flashes of confusion and momentary panic. One second she will be regarding her slender hands - her skin is showing cracks, she'll have to fix that, only she's not certain if she will bother in the end - in contemplation to gather her thoughts, only when she raises her head to meet Lily's gaze once more, something has changed. From the tiniest smudge of mascara in the corner of her left eye to her sweater changing color from black to dark red to it being the dead of night when it had been morning mere seconds before - they all form a chaotic cluster of pieces that assemble themselves to a puzzle in painful slow motion.

The doctors have taken her off the pain killers and that is the rational explanation for her - what? Short-term amnesia that makes Sunday morning blend directly into 2 a.m. on Tuesday?

It is definitely a more comforting thought than the one that she has truly gone insane.

She clings to Lily, only conscious of it at times, but since she is the single constant in her messy life, she sees no other way out. If Thomas or her mother drop by for a word, those moments are swallowed by her memory gaps so they might as well have not ever been present at the hospital. Nina wonders what that could mean.

Another familiar factor emerges in the form of a doctor - Lily calls her Thirteen. To Nina, however, it seems as if the ballet dancer is making fun of the other woman each time she uses that name. She appears to be there each time something goes wrong, and not knowing why sets Nina on edge. When Lily isn't there to mockingly share the company's gossip, that is.

When she is finally discharged, the Swan Queen almost can't believe it. She has come to regard her hospital bed as a second home, a place where she is allowed to watch all available Swan Lake performances recorded on DVD 'till her head and eyes ache so much she swears to never lay eyes on the television screen again only to resume her activity as insomnia won't let her out of its clutches, which is usually around five a.m. Her therapist actually encourages it. Something about coming to face your fear and trauma (as if she could not dance and hum the entirety of it on command anywhere, anytime).

It is not _Thirteen -_ she puts imaginary quotation marks around the obvious alias each time it enters her head - but a strange man in a cane that announces the happy news. She ignores him at first, assuming he is another patient same as her, lost in one of the biggest hospitals she has ever entered. Turns out she's wrong.

"Scuttle away now, you're free to. Shrink says you might not be a total nutcase and therefore entitled to be let loose on the world. Though I'd simply  _love_ for you to stay here just a bit longer so I can hear Wilson's glorious complaints about how he knows the Dance of the Little Swans by heart and backwards, whatever that means, for another week. I must say I owe whoever put you into the room directly across from his office a drink."

Nina is dumbfounded and stunned, but gets up nevertheless. The last thing she hears from a nurse is to  _Please ignore him, whatever he says._ When questioned if the man in question is an intern fooling around, the nurse snorts.  _He's Gregory House, one of the most highly acclaimed doctors on the planet, I'd wager._

Five minutes later, she's walking out of the PPTH with her head up high, inhaling the city's asphyxiating fumes. The rain has become a light drizzle and, on impulse, she brings her face up to look at the sky, tiny droplets flowing down her face and washing away the stress of the last few weeks.

After rummaging through her handbag for quite a while, quite unaware of the fact that she is standing in the middle of the main road, she finds her phone. She does not need much time to find the number she wants - she does not have many connections other than her mother and, ironically, she is the last person whose company she desires at the moment.

Her thumb hovers over the letter  _L_ for a good fifteen seconds before she presses  _Send_.

**Where are you?**

* * *

 

* * *

 

Lily jolts awake, arms flailing comically in the air as she brings up her hands to cover her ears and steady herself. The desk right next to her bed is shaking and it takes the ballet dancer a moment before she makes the connection between it and her vibrating black cell phone. The display spells out  **1 new message** in bold letters.

Groaning and her head pounding as if she has been knocked out cold by a professional kickboxer, the brunette snatches the device from her furniture and brushes her hair from her forehead. Absent-mindedly humming, she opens the message and is immediately brought out of her sleepy daze as she sees who it's from.

**Where are you?**

_Aw, shit._ It has finally happened - something seriously bad has happened while she has not been around and now Nina feels disappointed, if she hasn't gone completely batshit crazy already. One glance at the green alarm clock tells Lily it's noon. Why has she slept so late again? No matter. She has an obligation to get to New Jersey as quickly as humanly possible and pick up the broken pieces as well as she can.

The world has lost a bet, Lily is sure, because it takes her a full hour longer than usual to get to the Princeton–Plainsboro Teaching Hospital since literally every bus is late and every cabbie incredibly busy. She's sure that a woman who has been strolling through a park with her five-years-old daughter only barely holds back from making a scene as the ballet dancer races past them, muttering an imaginative sequence of profanity not-exactly-under-her-breath.

She must be quite a sight to behold, leaning against the reception desk and desperately gasping for air as if she has just run a marathon. Her cheeks are burning as if she's been out in the snow and she, to her embarrassment, has to write her request to see Miss Sayers down on actual paper for there to be successful communication between her and the nurse (who is obviously annoyed and holding on by a thread).

After ten minutes of heated discussion - that may or may not have included a minimum of one participant raising his or her voice to a volume that could have, hypothetically, been defined as screaming (only if one is sensitive, naturally) - Lily is seething with anger.

She storms off without another word to the nurse and is about to try her luck with a cab when she hits another body with full force. Both stumble, but Lily is able to grab the other person by the shoulders as to prevent that person's fall.

She has not expected the face to be familiar. "Remy! Jeez, watch where you're walking, will ya?" The ballet dancer is grinning like a Chesire cat as she throws her arms around the doctor's neck and envelops her in a spontaneous hug.

Thirteen disentangles herself easily and smirks. "Didn't expect to see you here. What are you up to?"

Lily shrugs. "Would you tell the nurse at the reception to get his damn facts straight? He told me Nina's been discharged, but that's freaking impossible."

The brunette shakes her head slightly. "She  _has_ been discharged, though, believe me. Didn't she tell you?"

The Swan Queen alternate's mouth snaps shut and she starts drawing patterns on the floor with her foot, eyes averted. "Not exactly."

"I thought you guys were the closest of friends?"

Lily is just about to correct her and laugh. Because of course _,_ she doesn't  _dislike_  Nina, but she is no more than a fleeting acquaintance. The words die in her throat as she realizes the lie and sighs.

"If you're looking for her, why don't you just call her?", Remy starts again.

"I've left my phone at home. I'd try her mom, but she's damn near a psycho, so... forget it. What's going on with you? The last time I really talked to you, well-" she grins at the memory of the not-quite-stolen hour in the IV room, "I might not have been in full possession of my mental capacities."

The doctor seems tense all of a sudden as her eyes fix on a point next to Lily's left ear. "Starbucks? I'm buying."

The ballet dancer is confused, but never one to reject a free coffee. "Count me in, literally."

Thirteen takes no notice of Lily's admittedly corny joke as she briskly makes her way out of the hospital while the other brunette is left to run after her. "Hey, mind telling me who it is we're fleeing from?"

"House."

By the time she takes the time to look back over her shoulder, there is no one extraordinary to be seen, but if she had been to ask Remy, she would have been told that a man with a cane was watching her every move and grinning like he had just won the lottery.

* * *

Lily sips her Honey Latte with relish. When she sees Thirteen's sour expression, she closes her eyes and moans exaggeratedly for dramatic effect. "This is  _delicious._ "

"I'm glad. You can choke on it for all I care."

Lily's eyes open abruptly at that only to see Remy doubling over with laughter. "Your face right there was  _priceless_ , thanks for that. Worth the outrageous price for sure. For one second you really thought I had put something toxic in your drink, hm?"

The ballet dancer smoothes her hair to keep up appearances and wags a finger at her accusingly. "You're just playing with me." Her eyes, however, are glinting in good humor.

She has the nagging feeling that she has forgotten something of significance, but can't for the life of her remember what it is, much less what role she has to play. She finds that another sip of the warm, liquid patch of heaven wipes all of it away just fine.

"So, for real. What is it about your boss to make everyone look for an emergency exit?"

Thirteen rolls her eyes and stuffs half of the Morning Glory muffin she has ordered into her mouth. She chews slowly, regarding Lily from under her eyelashes as she slightly lowers her head. "Other than his personality, his snide remarks, his sense of superiority that might, to some degree, even be justified? He keeps trying to mess with me and find data on each of his employees. He even hired a PI, so that should already tell you a lot. You'd think that being a junkie himself, he'd ignore my partying. He's like a child who has found a toy it simply can't quite reach, so he takes it out on the other kids." She sighs and nods her head towards Lily, obviously not keen on the subject. There is more, but there is no use in pressing if she's shutting down. "Why were you surprised when Nick - the nurse - thought you were tramp, again?"

The ballet dancer inhales sharply and prepares herself to be scandalised when she looks down at her body and takes her appearance in. The shop window of a near boutique enhances the laughable contrast between the two women clearly. Lily grits her teeth as her eyes seize up Remy's jeans and blouse that look downright luxurious in comparison to her own bleached tank top and leggings ripped at her right knee. The fact that she is wearing flip flops does not do much to make her situation better, either. She briefly regards the doctor's ankle boots and straight hair and almost hits her head against the table when she sees her own messy bun. Where has she had her head this morning, forgot it at the ballet studio by any chance?

(Obviously, Nina is light years ahead of appearance as far as priorities go, even if those happen to be screwed, because, well, they're Lily's)

"I was in a hurry." She murmurs and raises the cup to her lips again as to partly hide her blush.

Remy laughs, only she is not laughing  _at_ Lily. The fingers of her right hand brush the brunette's knuckles in a comforting gesture.

"Come on."

"What?" Lily mumbles around a mouthful of coffee.

"We're going to find Nina, okay?"

* * *

It takes Lily five minutes of walking before she has a laughing fit.

Once she manages to suppress the urge to make sounds that lead to strangers glaring daggers at her, she hails the first available taxi and everything but pushes Thirteen into the back seat.

"Had an epiphany?" The doctor calmly inquires as she sits up properly and gestures for Lily to join her.

The ballet dancer doesn't answer the question. " _Of course_  that's where she would be."

* * *

The haunting melody never fails to send shivers running deliciously down her spine. It does not matter how many hours she has spent listening to it, drilling her body to react at a precise note or split-second of silence. If she had to guess, she would say that added up, she has spent numerous weeks of her life primarily in the metaphorical company of Tchaikovsky. The effect remains, even as she has come to associate a disturbingly large portion of the score with frustrated shouting of choreographers and her own petrifying fear.

Without consciously deciding to do so, Lily creeps along the sparely lit corridor - it is Christmas Eve, she remembers, and who works of their own free will on such a day? - on tiptoe, careful not to make any sound as not to disrupt the breathtaking orchestra. She does not realize her breathing has become shallow until she becomes aware of Remy's calm and deep in- and exhaling.

By the time she has reached the end of the corridor that would directly lead her into their rehearsal room, the music has stopped.

The hall is empty, and for a brief moment Lily has the sensation of someone dancing on her grave as her gaze fixes on the ancient record player abandoned in a corner, seemingly having played all of its own ghostly accord mere minutes before. Finally, as her eyes take in the familiar territory, she sees the crumpled body of the Swan Queen in front of the mirrors.

"Nina." She whispers, the name distorted in a breathy sound that is somewhere between a gasp and a growl.

While she is frozen in place and time, a hand half-raised to cover her mouth, Thirteen rushes to the prima ballerina's side and presses her index and middle finger to her fragile, snow-white throat, checking her pulse.

"It's okay - looks like she passed out. Overexertion. I'd say that's not exactly uncommon with professional athletes. Give her a few hours of well-earned rest and treat her to some cookies and she should be fine."

The rustle of fabric seems deafening as the brunette doctor reveals the bandages covering up the deep gash in Nina's belly. Lily expects her to come around and cry out in pain, but she figures as she remains unconscious that her wounds have healed comparatively well. She feels relief course through her.

Remy looks back at her over her shoulder and gives her a thumbs-up. All clear. She crosses the room again, careful to cover her patient's midsection once more before leaving her.

"Mission accomplished, don't you think?" She grins at Lily, throwing back her head carelessly to shake the few loose strands of hair blocking her field of vision out of her eyes.

Lily watches in amazement as the brunette makes her way to the ballet studio's exit. "Where are you going?"

Thirteen chuckles, slowing her pace in favor of stopping altogether. "You're going to stay with her, aren't you?"

She is already out of the door before the dancer can even lift a hand to wave a goodbye.

* * *

She finds there had been no need to  _run_  to the nearest confectionery as Nina is still out cold half an hour later. Lily busies herself, neatly arranging a selection of pastries in front of the mirrors, complete with plastic plates and forks. Absent-mindedly she sips her soda, relishing in the shiver running through her at the sweet liquid cooling her throat. She has the gnawing suspicion that she treats herself to culinary guilty pleasures a lot more often than the rest of the company combined and yet she finds it's not even close to enough.

The brunette dancer takes out a pack of Kleenex and holds one under a spray of water from the sink. She gently dabs the Swan Queen's forehead with the wet tissue and smiles as she regains consciousness, even if it the procedure progresses at a crawl.

"Hey, how are you?" Lily asks gently.

Nina appears disoriented and dizzy, clinging to the other girl's arm. "What happened? I was just training." She frowns and hesitantly points at the food in front of her as if she isn't sure this is no Fata Morgana. "What's this?"

"Calories. Wonderful, fluffy batter dripping with fat and topped off with a thick layer of sugar. Go ahead, doctor's orders." She has to bite back a laugh at Nina's shocked expression at the mention of such unhealthy indulgence, teeth drawing blood from the inside of her cheek.

 


End file.
